


DresVan

by Itachi_S_Lucius



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (kinda), Alpha Arthur, Alpha Percival, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Arthur Pendragon Is King, Beta Gwaine, Beta Gwen, Canon Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Magic, Evil Gwen (sort of), F/F, F/M, Light Magic, M/M, Made For Each Other, Magic Made Them Do It, Multi, Omega Merlin, Royal Merlin, Slow To Update, noble merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 08:20:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7500999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itachi_S_Lucius/pseuds/Itachi_S_Lucius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The unraveling of such a profound mystery started oh so simply at training.   <br/>                                                       III</p><p>“Where is Merlin!?” Leon rocked backward at the name, grip losing enough for the other knight to get free and stand up, his voice venomous as he growled directly at the King. </p><p>"You did something to him!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tears

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE IS IMPORTANT TO UNDERSTAND THE UNIVERSE YOU'RE READING: All officiated titles are feminized or masculinized. However ‘MiLady’, ‘MiLord’ are not.
> 
> ‘Your Highness’, and ‘Your Majesty’ are gendernuteral terms. 
> 
> I also want to make clear, it is very common for Male and Female Omega’s to wear dresses, it is infact expected. It is also socially expected that all Alpha’s wear tunic and breeches, and not dresses regardless of second gender.
> 
> Guide: 
> 
> Male Alpha: His/him, Count, Duke, Baron, The Prince, The King. (My Lord)  
> Female Alpha: She/her, Count, Duke, Baron, The Prince, The King. (My Lady)
> 
> Male Omega: His/him, Countess, Duchess, Baroness, The Princess, The Queen. (My Lord)  
> Female Omega: She/her, Countess, Duchess, Baroness, The Princess, The Queen. (My Lady)

**Legend:**

**_Singing (Usually Merlin or Zairos) *Songs are taken from The Prince of Egypt, other sources will be added if written*_ **

**Spell Casting**

_ Flashback _

_ “Quote said to Character in the past” _

 

* * *

 

The claimed Land of the Kingdom had stretched a good deal over Camelot’s Southern border, over Escetir’s lowest towns, all of Tir Mor had belonged to DresVan, its citadel having held place there -which was why their was no current Kingdom there-, it took up over half of what was now the Kingdom of Kent, nearly a quarter of Nemeth’s Eastern side had belonged to DresVan.

It had been a large but prosperous Kingdom, it’s knights all fierce Alpha’s male and Female alike an Army which had been unparalleled at its time, no one dared to try to overthrow them, the land had been rich with good soil, grain, fruits a plenty, and much cattle grazed the hills.

With these riches many desired the land they held, but DresVan had been a peaceful Kingdom regardless of their fierce army, they had trade with many of the surrounding lands, and that held many of them at bay with the riches wrought by the Kingdom given liberally to the surrounding lands in exchange for peace. DresVan had also had some of the finest cloth and much of it. So much so, that even citizens of the lowermost towns had fine clothing to last the winters and gave the appearance of much wealth to the Kingdom.

The ruling family had the finest the land had to offer, though most of it was given to the Omega’s of the castle, the Alpha preferring the strong fabrics, instead of the fine, in case of battle -most having been knights-. 

The ruling family itself: The House of Wyrm. Ruled with a pair of siblings and had done so for as long as time could remember. Always one Alpha and one Omega sibling looking over the land.

Years ago, upon his first arrival in Camelot, it had been a new start. Something fresh, something to cleanse his wounds, as painful as it had been. He could even say it had helped his first few weeks within the walls had been strange, so many customs foreign, nevermind strange and downright obscene in certain situations.

Still he hadn’t minded all too much, it had been for his own benefit that he had left Ealdor, he was used to life in a large citadel, not a small village. He’d grown irritated by the customs of his own adoptive village and found that he simply had to leave. It was much to small and -dare he say it- work dependent for his tastes. Not that in his old Kingdom he hadn’t been riddled with work, but it hadn’t been such types of manual labor, or grain harvest, and the people there hadn’t taken it too kindly when he reminded them of that fact.

Camelot had been a chance to remember, and once more be comforted by the main city of a Kingdom as he had been raised. He hadn’t expected things to go the way they had, with Arthur, and The Dragon, Gaius, and Uther, Gwen and Morgana. Comforted by emotional connections he hadn’t had in Ealdor as he had in DresVan.

Now that emotional connection had become sour and dry. He still cared, how could he not? But as seasons went by, he could feel himself slipping from the minds of those who he cared so deeply for. Even Arthur. Morgana was gone, lost in her own mind, Uther as well, and though Merlin hadn’t particularly liked the man, he did respect him to a point. Gwen, well he’d much rather not think of, her and Arthur had been besotted with each other in this previous year of their marriage, around each other as Merlin had hovered over Arthur, insuring destiny.

Merlin didn’t care to think himself the last survivor of such a great Kingdom, and even if he let it linger on his thoughts, he would have much preferred it to be someone else.

He’d run that day, as far as he could, as fast as he could have, because his mother had been ailed than, and Zairos had told him to, he wouldn’t have if his older brother hadn’t told him to.

Gwen was the Queen, a beta with a strong spirit and understanding of the mightiest Omega, and the fierce fire and determination of the strongest DresVan knight. She would be a Queen of the people, one loved, and one cherished. He’d seen it as a mere boy, but he knew, Arthur would be much the same as the King of all of Albion.

As the Crowned Princess of DresVan, the rightful Queen to his Kingdom, he would help where he could to unite all of Albion, for Arthur.

In DresVan, after his Crowning as Princess, before his Brother’s crowning as King, Zairos had been the one to watch over him, raised him in the way of the court as his Mother and Uncle could not. 

He and Zairos had been closer than him and his mother back then, nearly as close as him and Arthur to be perfectly honest. His brother wasn’t too much older then him, when he had been about to take his place as Queen, at the tender age of seventeen, his Brother had been twenty-two and had held rule as Regent for two years after their Uncle had passed on. It was quite illegal in DresVan to not have the two royal siblings rule together. Unheard of.

It was the Queen’s job to find a mate and sire heirs. The King was not allowed to have children. This was too insure that the Crown was not fought over by cousins. The Queen was allowed to mate with any he or she desired, even those in another realm, which is why Merlin had been quite confused for awhile on Arthur and Gwen’s grand romantic drama, he’d been raised to choose whoever he desired -if approved of by his brother-, Arthur hadn’t had that luxury. Of course any he had chosen would have been challenged by his Brother, a test of sorts.

Merlin had often entertained the thought of Zairos and Arthur meeting, in the past it would have been disastrous, now however, with the fair King Arthur was they might just have got on. Of course Zarios was far more traditional then Arthur is now. So that would have arisen it’s own problems, not to mention how Merlin had been treated by Arthur’s hand. When in his most vindictive moods, when Arthur had been a right prat, he would often imagine his brother beating the smug clotpoll into a more humbled man. Those thoughts never lingered too long.

He often wondered if Zairos would have approved of Arthur had him and the Prince courted, he imagined that despite his Brother’s kind nature, and equal thinking that: No, no Zairos would never have let Arthur court Merlin, and not just because of the sins of the Father, but because of Merlin himself. For Will had been right all those years ago, if Merlin could not admit to the person he loved so dearly that he was magic without fear of death, then they could not be together, it wouldn’t be right to either of them. And Zairos would have said as much, with his hand resting on the hilt of his blade and a dark simmer to his grey eyes.

 

* * *

Gwen’s dress was of a lighter fabric this evening, was the colour of a sweetened grape caught in the sunlight, the chilled air seemingly not affecting her, everything about her held an esteemed edge, as if she was born into royalty rather then married into it. An admiral sight to behold for someone like Leon.

At the end of the training day, many of the knights complained of aching muscles, old war scars, and the occasional Green recrute would smile brightly at the exercise the training brought. The sun held fast over their heads warming his mail and bring a sigh of contentment even as the chilled air nipped at his face. The knights began to scatter as the King greeted the Queen at the edge of the training field, even from this distance, Leon could see the small smile in his old friends eyes as he greeted his wife, something kind and sweet that Leon had seen on many loving couples within the town.

It made his own eyes lift, the worried lines that lay there from years past smoothing ever so slightly. From the very corner of his eye, he saw something the made his instincts flare ever so slightly. Sir Gwaine was looking around the field as if he had forgotten something, not alarming in any case, but it was the way his hand was tightened around his sword that gave Leon pause. Gwaine may well be one of their best fighters, not to mention easily riled, but Gwaine was more than anything a content and calm spirit, seeing him so urked was strange.

With that he raised his voice over the winds, and nearly yelled at the younger knight. “Something the matter Gwaine?” The man turned, his expression hardened in a way that Leon recognized as worry and the urge to draw action. An expression that Gwaine only held during the most desperate of situations. At this look Leon was on alert, Gwaine was one who joked in serious situations, and only when great trouble arose did he dawn that expression. “Gwaine why-”

“What is wrong with you people?!” The shout was so unexpected, that everyone of the knights turned towards the noise, brows furrowed at the sight of the normally relaxed Gwaine in something of a fit. Face blotched in red, hand clenched tightly on his sword, the muscles in his neck straining.

Even Arthur and Gwen who had appeared to be in deep conversation before had turned with mixed looks of confusion.

Leon saw the flush of bright red underneath Gwaine’s thick beard as the brown haired knight caught sight of the King, an accusing finger pointed at Arthur disrespectfully, and a sneer on his lips that Leon had never seen before all the time he’d known the other knight. “Doesn’t something seem strange to you?!” He was addressing Arthur, and for a moment Leon considered defending the King, yet he was curious at Gwaine's reasoning and stayed silent. The other’s were much the same.

“What on Earth are you on about Gwaine?” The tone was sharp, scalding a knight who disrespected his superiors, yet the lack of formal address was assurance to everyone looking upon the scene that The King was actually invested in his questioning. 

Beside Gwaine Percival stood tall, something rigid in his posture said that he wasn’t simply looking on like the other’s but actively supporting Gwaine’s outrage. Percival was such a kind soul that Leon had honestly considered the fact that the tall man wasn’t capable of anger. It seemed that he was quite wrong, and that something was honest to the gods wrong here.

“Look around Princess! Something seem  _ off _ to you?!” Gwaine’s voice was so very vindictive that Leon looked around the field as Gwen and Arthur did. Yet either his sight was failing him, or it was only something that Gwaine Percival or the King would be able to see, which was strange indeed. That and the young knight hadn’t used the nickname ‘princess’ while addressing Arthur directly for years after an incident with a visiting Alpha Prince, which spoke highly of his anger.

When both the Queen and King looked back to the other knight with continued confusion, Gwaine exploded and the angry flush that had been on his face seemed to transfer to Percival as Gwaine charged at the King.

It took him a few seconds of bewildered incomprehension before he was able to act and tackled Gwaine to the ground plowing the man over, and looking over to the much taller knight behind him, hoping that the other wouldn’t charged, Leon my be good at his job, but Percival was twice his size, and had twice the amount of muscle. Though the other red head looked very angry, which was unnerving Leon doubted that he’d be as rash as Gwaine in his anger at this point, he wouldn’t really know he’d never actually seen the kind man angry.

“Sir Gwaine! What is the meaning of this?!” Arthur’s voice was a yell on the field his gaze held firmly on the young knight who was being held back now by Leon. At the angry shout Gwaine spasmed forward to try and attack the blond King once more, Leon held firm however, his position over the other man, gave him the advantage.

“You bloody good-for-nothing-noble arse! How have you not noticed!?” At this Arthur’s arms crossed over his chest, and he raised an eyebrow similar to the one Gaius gave the knights when he thought them stupid. “Where is Merlin!?” Leon rocked backwards at the name, grip losing enough for the other knight to get free and stand up, his voice venomous as he growled directly at the King.

“I haven’t seen him for two weeks! He usually comes down at the very least to talk to me and Percy during training once a week! Even then we usually see him around the grounds or share a drink at the tavern, but we haven’t! So either something has happened to him or-” The sentence broke and Gwaine drew his sword. “You did something to him!” At the sight of a sword drawn threateningly at the King, Percival rested a hand on the drawn arm and pushed down gently, as if asking for speech before violence. 

The arm lowered, though Gwaine didn’t look happy about it. Glancing at Arthur, Leon saw true shock on his features, and even perhaps fear in his eyes.

“Merlin? I-I haven’t seen him for,...” Something like panic broke free on the King’s face, something terror filled and unsure, something Leon hadn’t seen on Arthur’s face since Arthur was but a boy playing with wooden swords. The broken look gave way to a desperate calling of his friends name, and the King was frantic as he did so. “MERLIN! MERLIN!” He ran off the fields and into the castle still shouting, Gwen following closely, more controlled but her shoulders were very tense from where Leon stood.

 

* * *

 

Deep within the boundaries of Tir Mor, a strong wind blew. A small crack appearing on a mighty stone statue of a knight. It riven cracks deep into the cape of the statue, but none passed beyond the figure’s shoulders, waiting for some unknown thing in order to continue their path.

 

* * *

 

 

**_“There can be miracles if you believe. Though hope frail it’s hard to kill, who knows what miracles you can achieve, when you believe somehow you will. You will when you believe.”_ **

“Do you remember brother? When you would sing me to sleep on the hearth of our chambers? How I would shape the fire to match your song, spin the flames within my hands, alter its very colour with my emotions. How the brush would run through my hair, long and elegant, black as the raven's wing, waved as the sea itself. Sometimes I miss the strangest things, my hair being one of them, the fine robes doublets and dresses I wore. Sneaking into the lower town against your wishes.” Bitter sorrow and nostalgia gave way from the careful mask of controlled emotion that the pale youth had held.

It broke his trance easily, the simple blankness that had filled his mind brushing away as if it had been but a mere blink of his eyelids.

Bitter cold sweeping swiftly to his attention, the forest being far too cold. He lay shivering upon the dry leafs of the outer forests of Camelot. Harvest season having arrived with it's cold winds at night and clouded skies in the daylight.

He wondered, how long had he been sitting in the forest. How many candlemarks worth of sitting alone in the forest where the trees were lain so bare, where they’re leafs lay underneath him crunching satisfactorily at his weight? Many, he surmised; for the sky shone with moonlight and stars, not the afternoon sun and brightened sky that he had been expecting. He had been expecting it at one point, his trips into himself lasting longer each night as he lifted himself from his physical mentality.

Moving himself upwards, his limbs protested, and he knew it had been quite a long time indeed. It wouldn’t do to think on it now, he had to get back to Camelot, ask George or Gwen’s maidservent just how long he had been absent.

He looked to the stars high above him. His breath catching momentarily at the beauty of the sight.

“Rest well DresVan.” The mist that rose from his breath looked to him, as if it was sending his small prayer to the gods. Though he knew it wasn’t, it brought him a small comfort. Wrapping his arms around his form, he felt the prick of oncoming tears, he stumbled towards what he now called home, in all it’s glory.

 

* * *

 

He woke late. The jarring sound of his door being rasped upon the only thing rousing him from his slumber. Haze surrounded his vision as he sat up, body weighing him down in a desperate try to get more sleep. His feet lacked the grace of the secret noble he was, and he opened the door with an impolite yawn in progress. He sobered at the sight of his mother, a frown deeply edged onto her face, and an adjoined disappointed quirk of her brow, his lack of manners more than sufficient to earn such a look he knew. He could only muster a grin that masked his discomfort and shame at being caught in the act.

She gave a small sound in annoyance then turned to the table in the main room, the noble stride he hadn’t seen for what felt like eons graced her steps. After such a long absence from both his mother’s presence, and their original home it was a refreshing sight. With such a clutter on the physician's table, it was quite a feat that her satchel was able to be placed on it at all. While the satchel was placed on the table, the bag that had been on her bag was rested gently on the floor beside the door.

“Mother, not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you doing here?” Her lips thinned into a line so small, it gave the impression that she had no mouth at all. He looked upon her closely then, worry furrowing his brow deeply, Camelot was not an easy trek for his mother he knew this well. Staring on her face, he saw wrinkles heavy around her eyes, and her mouth, a fatigue in her irises, that sent a shiver through him though he had no idea as to why.

“Merlin, has Gaius gone out?” The lack of answer gave him pause, but he nodded nonetheless, this had to be something Gaius didn’t, or shouldn’t know about. She only gave a brief understanding nod of her own, then unclasped the fastenings on her satchel, and lay it down flat on the wooden table in order to pull something out of it Merlin could not yet see. 

Once more she looked to him, but Merlin felt strange at the glance, it wasn’t one of love or caring, nor was it of hate and disgust, but it was simply an emotion he’d never seen on his mother, one of loss and perhaps of a grave and bitter-truth.

He daren’t speak.

“Merlin, it wasn’t my intention to come to you with this now, or indeed even in many years yet, however I fear-” She drew in breath, a moment to gather herself that he recognized well, her back straightened and her chest held with the intake for a good minute, before she let it out as a deep sigh. “Merlin, I’m afraid my time on this Earth is at its closing.” He drew in, but her voice drew up. “No, Merlin. Do not mix yourself in the balance of life or death again, certainly not for me. I’m old Merlin, I’ve lived my time, and I’ve had two wonderful sons to bring me joy during it. Surely, your Uncle is waiting for me on the other side by now, you know how impatient my brother can be Merlin, best not keep him waiting for long.”

He snorted, undignified, a pain of grief in his chest, but a fondness for his Uncle in his mind and heart over-treading it. Hunith smiled with great sorrow. He could grant her this, he would miss her, yet he knew she missed her brother as well, and somewhere within he knew she was right, though he hated it with the burn in his eyes and the rage at age itself in his mind.

“Before that, however. I have some things to give you. I should have done so far sooner, but I honestly couldn’t bare it.” The expression on her face was a solemn one. She pulled from her satchel a clean long fabric of complete black, and Merlin felt his heart stutter in remembrance. She lifted it carefully, for it was folded neatly, and placed it upon the worn wooden table where it stood as contrast. 

She then pulled out a small silver object and placed it on the folded fabric. Looking upon it with a closer eye, he knew what it was immediately, and he had to fight the betrayal rising in his gut that she had hid this from him.

He said nothing as she grasped her other bag, and pulled out something wrapped heavily in cloth. He had no idea what could have been hidden there. Carefully she placed the item on the table next to the fabric and the silver ring resting upon it.

He only glanced at her as he grabbed the ring, inspecting it closely. It was what he had thought it to be. The silver crest of a mid flight bird of prey edged into the onyx stone gave him all that he needed to know. The thick dark silver unmistakable to his eyes, even as he had not seen it for so long.

This was his brother’s ring. Their family crest proof enough of its leniency. For although they bared the name of the House of Wyrm, their symbol was not one of a dragon, but rather an agile unidentifiable bird of prey soaring in the sky.

He wanted to shout at her for hiding this from him, but he couldn’t bare too, Zairos was her son as well as his brother, and that would simply be cruel. He knew the ring wouldn’t fit him, his brother had been far larger than him in body mass, and taller, so he took off his kerchief and wrapped it in the red material, as gently as he could, then placed it on the table. 

He would hide it, or find a way to hold it safely with him later. Perhaps he would find a cord to tie it around his neck. Keep it hidden beneath his tunic and kerchief where no one would see.

He grabbed the black fabric next, he held it at the corners, and it unfolded itself. It was a cloak as he had expected, most likely one of the spare ones that had lain in the armory, just in case.

It bore the crest of his family on the lower right corner, and the deep black colour as the mark of a DresVan knight. It looked as if it had hardly ever been worn, which was quite possible. He set it aside on the dining table. If his mother had any qualms she didn’t voice them.

The bundled up item was next.

His mother grabbed his wrist, and he looked at her in earnest. Her eyes were pleading, yet there held so much pride within them. It was alarming.

“This is something you should have long ago.” He gave her but a mere nod, before slipping his wrist free, and unwrapping the cloth.

He stumbled back as he first glanced at what was underneath. The silver was shining and gleaming, finely polished, and though there was barely any light in the dark of the physician's chambers it shone as if the sun was there before it. He gave himself only a moment, for he knew if he hesitated he would never reach further than this. He then nearly sprang forward in haste. His hands shook.

It was as beautiful as he remembered it to be. The bottom circlet made out of fine gold, small pearls placed in two separate rings around the bottom and top of the band of gold. The crown itself was made out of pure silver, finely detailed, as Merlin remembered, and knew it must have taken a season to make at the least. 

Nine turrets to the crown, topped with a perched bird of silver, the centre turret had the birds wings splayed wide, its head tipped back and beak open. In the centre of each turret a large dark blue sapphire stone, but the centre turret which had a large onyx stone representing DresVan well.

The base of the crown looked like the most delicate, conjoined leafs, each point of a conjoined leaf had a small onyx gem placed on it. He recognized the crown well, how could he not?

“This is, this is my coronation crown. I- I never got to wear it.” He looked at his mother, her gaze held so much, yet nothing he could understand.

“Yet you should have my son. You are the rightful Queen.” There was implication somewhere hidden in her tone, something harsh and brash, yet he couldn’t see why, it certainly wasn’t out of spite for him, or the crown itself, she had bore it herself for years before he was supposed to be crowned. 

Thus, her harsh tone made no sense, and yet he felt truth to it, though he did not understand why.  

“Mother, thank you I-” The chamber door opened, he folded the crown up as quickly as he could without using magic, far more cautious than he had been in the past. Luckily, sweeping robes and dull blue with a topping of grey, revealed it to only be Gaius coming back from his morning rounds. His eyes worn from the early morning light, and his robes smudged with dirt from the city paths. When his eyes fell upon Merlin however, his face betrayed all emotion -something Merlin doubted it had done when he was a younger man-, there was shock mostly, but something twisted his face in anger. 

His neck hair stood up on end, even his mother, tilted her head to the side in what could only be taken as curiosity. 

“And just where have you been?!” An eyebrow raised. 

“I- was-” 

“You’ve been missing for two whole days, you better have a good excuse, for not just me but Arthur. There’s been quite the hunt going on for you.” Finally his gaze seemed to filter to Hunith, Merlin felt himself untense quickly after that. Something uncoiling in his gut, at the mere thought of being gone for as long as he had. He certainly hadn’t been expecting such a thing to happen. He just wanted to bask in his family’s -brother’s mainly’ memory. 

“Hunith- I wasn’t expecting you my dear, are you unwell?” A tight twist of his lips was all Merlin could manage before he left out of the as quickly as he could, grabbing his neckerchief with his brother’s ring in it as he did. He hardly wanted to hear their discussion. 

Still he heard his mother’s reply, his eyes watering, and heart clenched. 

“Dying I should think. Gaius- Take care of Merlin when the Gods take me yes?”

The steps welcomed the cold air from the outside, the guards standing on duty barely managing not to shiver at the cold winds of Harvest. Many servants in scraps of cloth just as he were walking about, they did shudder at the wind’s gust. Many stood for but a moment to stare at him, but he glanced away from their faces and continued on his way to the kitchens. 

 

* * *

 

 

No one paid him much attention as he walked up to the King’s chambers, busy shuffling cloth, scrubbing floors, carrying trays, and other such ridiculous things that was involved in the life of a servant, which Merlin now found himself quite comfortable with -annoying yes- but comfortable. It was meeting with Arthur and Gwen this morning that he dreaded. 

The room was quite dark when he entered, though he could make out two figures on the bed sleeping peacefully. Gently he set the tray on the bed and tried in vain to swallow the lump of pain rising in his throat. He could not think much on it, for his own sanity, although he knew well enough what it was.

He threw open the curtains hastily, but his tongue wouldn’t form the words he wanted it too, he wanted desperately to be himself. Yet in the face of such circumstance, his Mother, Arthur, his crown, he couldn’t feel his chest and the tears down his cheeks were strong flowing, and wouldn’t stop. 

There was nothing he could do about that, and with his neckerchief still held by his stiff fist, we strode over to the armor piled over at the other end of the room, it clanked together loudly, but he only tucked the chainmail under his arm before he was wiping at his face with his tunic’s still forest covered sleeve, and even he could not blame such a pathetic sniffling noise that escaped him as he did so on the metal of the armor, or a tickle of the nose.  

He heard a yawn, and shifted so his back was towards the royal couple, no matter how Arthur denied it, at least Gwen was his friend, and he couldn’t let her see him in such a sorry state, let alone Arthur who would call him a girl, and then drill him for his absence. Most likely use him as a battering ram for his knights and himself while training, or demand ridiculous chores of him, not like that was unusual. 

“MERLIN!” The booming shout was probably heard by half of the courtyard, but Merlin only closed his eyes, and refused to turn around, a weight heavily pressing on his shoulders. He heard something like a sigh behind him, soft and barely there, and he knew that must have been Gwen. -Arthur preferred to groan.- “And just WHERE have you been?!” He stayed silent, as the rest of the room did, the clank of armor once again stealing up the silence. “If you were in the the tavern again Merlin-” 

“-I wasn’t in the tavern.” That misconception had gone far enough. As it stood he’d only gotten knackered once, and it was not such an enjoyable time that he’d do it again for the fleeting buzzing in his body it gave, It simply wasn’t reason enough. There was a grunt. 

“THEN WHERE WERE YOU?!” He flinched at the tone and volume, it hadn’t been used often in the past, but more and more, it happened after Arthur became a married man. He held his shoulders stiff, and dropped the armor on the table once more, his chest painful with stress and his personal ails, his breath held, and he was straightened painfully tall. His fist clenched around the cloth in his hand, feeling the press of the metal there. 

A small sputter escaped his throat. Which spilled out like the fast flowing rivers, his tears hastening to follow, something like a hiccup spilled through the mix, and then he was crying. Great body wracking sobs that shook him to the core, and humiliated him to a level he wasn’t aware existed. He hadn’t felt so helpless since his father died in front of him, or when his brother was… gone. It felt like everything was changing for the very worst. It was truly horrible. 

It felt like entire minutes, but really it was only a second, before he had will enough to calm himself and muster up something akin to courage. 

“I’ll leave you and the Queen to your breakfast sire, I have other duties to attend.” He hastened to the door, and left with a sob clogging his throat, and ran down the corridor, he needed to be free of Arthur, of Gwen, of Gaius -and though he was ashamed to admit it-, his mother. He stumbled on the very rock beneath him, his vision blurred by water. 

_ “No man is worth your tears.”  _

He collapsed onto the wall, his breath failing him, the previously forgotten memory rushing back to him, that the force of the emotions it carried, he could hardly bare with conscious thought in this state. Sweat gathered on his brow, and he felt saliva slip down his chin as his crying became more pronounced than it had been.

_ “You certainly aren’t.”  _

His head felt light compared to the rest of him, which felt weighed against the entire castle. He felt more pathetic than he could even surmise into words. He pulled himself from the wall, and wiped away his tears from his face rubbing profusely with his sleeve, the skin became sore with the salts of the tears quick enough, but he paid it no heed as he walked on down the corridor. 

There was a crushing feeling weighing his feet to the floor, and slumping his shoulders, like a pit had opened up in his stomach that unleashed such profound sadness. He remembered it being like this once the curse on DresVan descended, and him and his mother were mercilessly left alive. It hadn’t felt like a blessing then. He hardly called it one now. 

“Merlin?” The urge to ignore the bekon was strong, and swept over him quickly, yet he knew his friend would not cease if he ignored him, so he turned, well aware of what he looked like. 

“By the Gods Merlin! You look ass if you lost your child to a herd of stampeding horses!” 

‘Now there’s a concept’ His bitter thoughts came across his mind without yeld, and he cursed his own depressive state as he never had before, children was something he would have had by now had the coven not cursed his land.  Married with children he could hardly imagine such a thing at this point. A family he could never have, and he felt hardened inside at the very fact that it rang so true. 

“Gwaine.” His voice was only a harsh whisper at this point, it was inevitable everything inside of him was clenched in some sort of pain. The knight looked upon him with both pity, and a forced cheer Merlin could recognize easily. His friend stepped close to him, took his shoulder and guided him to the wide archs of the corridor. 

“Merlin, what happened when you were gone?” There was a forced tone to his voice, yet Merlin could not tell yet what it was, he knew it was something close to pity, or worry, something of that sort that was lost to him now. He could not tell Gwaine the truth could he? That was a secret of himself almost as closely held to his chest as his magic was. 

Yet, he yearned for someone to know, someone to talk to when his Mother was taken by the Gods, and perhaps that man should be Gaius, but Gwaine was someone as dear to him. So perhaps this once, just this once he could say something, truly he’d rather it’d be Lancelot, his heart knew the man’s kindness well, and knew that for everything that had happened the kind knight would not have betrayed him. Gwaine was a similar man however, this he knew well, and Gwaine, of anyone, deserved to know him, at least that little bit more. 

“Nothing happened. I was- in mourning.” He leaned against a pillar, his eyes closed, not looking at the man before him, nervousness twitching his arms and legs, and he held fast to the neckerchief in his hand.

“Mourning? Who-?” He heard the sharp breath his friend took in, cutting himself off, and he was grateful.    

“You have heard of DresVan?” A small snort was his first response. Then Gwaine spoke, and edge of mocking laced his tone, 

“Heard of DresVan? I dare say you’d be hard pressed to find someone of my years that hasn’t heard of the Legendary Kingdom of DresVan.” He nearly laughed at the sly retort, but the situation held him back. 

“I was born there.” He opened his eyes to stare at his friends, well aware that he shook in his boots, his voice strong as it hadn’t been in a long time, the pride in his heritage showing once more. Gwaine for his part stood rigid, tall, yet his hand tapped his thigh, a sign of confusion, weariness that Merlin knew from the many battles he’d both seen and fought in. He held firm and spoke once more, not allowing Gwaine his piece. 

“Me and my Mother were the only ones to escape. Two Omega’s wandering the landscape, broken from the loss of our family, and our friends. We stumbled into Cendred’s Kingdom and into Ealdor. 

At first it was difficult to adjust. Though ‘difficult’ is a far too light word to use. Both me and my Mother were born into a noble household, so the simple ways of what we considered ‘peasants’ were lost to us noble folk.” He snorted at that, his life as a nobleman had not been simple by any means, he had been Princess after all, there were many things he did have to care for with such a position, though it required very little manual labor as the life of a peasant boy did. 

“You can’t imagine Gwaine, such a grand Kingdom; gone in the bat of my eyelid, just because of some vindictive coven.” He raised the neckerchief so that he may look down at it, stroking his fingers across the indent his brother’s band left hidden in the fabric. He didn’t speak anymore, that was all he could bear to reveal of himself. He didn’t look to meet his friends eye, he only waited for a response whatever it may be. 

“You are good at holding secrets after all, huh Merlin?” He gave an indulgent snort of laughter, understanding Gwaine’s processing of the information. “I knew there was something more to you, but I never guessed it could have been something of this purview. You of DresVan? I never would have even considered it! Well you certainly don’t look the part, so I cannot be faulted there.” 

“When the coven attacked, they first swept the Omega’s of their beauty and grace, I cannot fathom why, considering they were simply did to them as they did to the Alpha’s. Something of spite I imagine. After they did that, they drifted throughout the Kingdom turning everyone to stone as the story tells.” Gwaine’s mouth was in a firm line at that. Yet his eyes strayed over Merlin’s form as if inspecting him for a hint of what he had been. 

“So that’s not really what you look like then?” He only shook his head, but a small smile managed to slip into place. 

“I’m not to different actually, gave my hair a cut and smoothed my ears from their point, they may have given me a more square chin, but at this point I don’t remember much of what I was.” The knight kept silence, and Merlin understood that a decision was being made by the man. One of great magnitude to him. His eyes were narrowed on the DresVan noble, a complexity in his gaze that merlin had only ever seen whence his past was spoken of. Something both kind and judgemental in equal measure. Finally his eyes settled. 

“So those ears were larger than they are now? That’s hard to believe Merlin.” 

Merlin let out a chortle. Acceptance giving him something light to think about in such bitter times. 

 

 


	2. Generations of Royalty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extremely Short Chapter compared to 'Tears' but I was on a deadline this time, and I had to get it out. Sorry everyone. 
> 
> Please tell me if you like it so far, or rather, the direction it's taking so far, enjoy!

The next morning was complex. He had hardly slept, rested upon his uncomfortable bed, material positions of a past so dear resting near him in his cupboard, he hardly gave them a glance even in his enervated state. 

Something kept him from crying out his pains and aches in the dead of the night to anyone that would listen, or even to himself in the silence of his room. The weight of his family dynasty rested upon him with his mother’s slow death in the room just outside his, Arthur’s destiny still a mystery that he must hold to the most importance. Gwaine’s new knowledge that he had so freely given. 

How was he supposed to settle into peaceful slumber with that upon his mind? The devastation in his wake, in everything, had come to be, a murderer for Arthur, yet a royal for his mother, a secret keeper, a traitor by the law, what kind of man was he at this point? Was he in the wrong or right way of the Gods? Did they grant him favor? Or did they despise him for all that he has done? 

The ponderings on such thoughts brought a bitter taste to his mouth, and he moved to get up, determined to think of it no longer. His thoughts always held a hint of despair in the early morning, it seemed they had only gained in viscous quality as time passed. That, he told himself, was quite pathetic.

There was a slight hitching of breath just outside of his room, and for the barest of moments he worried that it had been his Mother’s final draw of breath. Yet he heard the tell-tale sound of her moving about and he relaxed, he was quite on edge.  

His room was cold indeed, but nothing compared to the chilled air that greeted him in the physician's chambers. Gaius sat at the table nursing a bowl of what looked to be soup, his mother was staring with an irate expression upon the very cloth that represented their people. He hadn’t taken it to his room in the evening, now as he saw his mother’s distanced eyes he knew he should have. Of the two of them, Hunith was more sensitive when DresVan was brought into conversation, twas where her brother breathed his last, prideful of his land, where her son had been enraptured into stone, and where her people lay never awaking yet never to settle into blissful slumber.  

She turned to him the cloth held in a fist, eyes brightened and face lightened at the very sight of him, to him, it only made her upcoming demise all the more painful, he smiled nonetheless. Looking to the cloth once more she placed it timidly on the small table that he had thrown it too just the day prior. Then reached for something just out of his sight near it, and walked to him. 

“Here I thought this might help.” She handed him a long, thinly cut strip of soft brown leather with a smile. It was long enough for him to tie around his neck, and he gave her a grin in return, they did indeed think alike in some cases. The leather would be kind on his skin, and strong enough to hold his brother’s crest without splitting, perfect. 

He kissed her on the cheek and took his place across from Gaius at the table his meal of soup already set there. 

“Hunith dear, you didn’t eat much, are you sure you don’t want more? I have some.” Gaius spoke, solicitously. She gave him a brief smile, and with a light teasing in her tone replied simply. 

“Ah, no thank you, Gaius, I’m afraid I have little appetite at the moment.” She swept a strand of hair from her face with a smooth flourish, and gave a pitying smile, although Merlin knew well enough it was for both herself and him more than Gaius. 

He let himself possess it for a moment, before slumping over and sipping at his soup. This would warrant a good scolding from his mother on an average day, now, however, the knowledge that hung between them seemed to cause both of them to lose their peace of mind, it was hardly their greater concern, and the two of them knew it well. 

He finished quickly and went to his room as quickly as he could without running to change his clothes and place the ring on the leather. 

After he changed into his plain brown trousers blue tunic, and finally his red neckerchief and brown jacket, he fit the ring on the leather and marveled for a moment how he at last, had something of his brother’s to hold onto. He smiled candidly and tucked the necklace underneath his neckerchief. 

He exited once more with a far happier disposition. 

“Bye Mum see you later tonight.” He said quickly and hugged her briefly before turned towards the door. Gaius gave him an inquiring eyebrow lift, he only grinned in response, he knew he was in trouble, but after yesterday he knew Arthur would have simmered down, he was actually looking forward to the confrontation now.   

The halls ever busy gave him no easy passage to the kitchen, so in result, he only bounded up the stairs with breakfast when he knew Arthur and Gwen would be up preparing for the day. He almost entered without knocking, then remembered Arthur’s words of a lady’s privicy, and timidly knocked instead. 

“Merlin! Get in here you-”

“Arthur, come now.” He giggled at the response for a second, almost disappointed Gwen had interrupted, yet equally glad she had, if only for smug satisfaction. He entered quickly, placing the tray of food on the large table before he could trip and spill it on the floor, as he had before. 

Arthur he noticed, was glaring at him, his face betraying no obvious emotion, yet his shoulders said agitated, and his footing spoke to him as unamused, the tilt of his head ever so slightly brought backwards giving clear view of his neck, said that there was concern there as well. Merlin could not stop himself from smiling at the sight. Arthur of course, took this not as the simple smile it was, but instead of amusement and rebellious intent. Merlin could tell by the way his King’s eyes darkened and his head tilted back down, how he crossed his arms and stared with an accusing eye. 

Gwen he could clearly see was fussing about in her wardrobe giving them a semblance of privacy. It was appreciated. 

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself?” He grinned, taunting.

“About?” Arthur gestured his hand in a circular motion, his jaw clenched. 

“You know what.” 

“No. Honestly sire, you should learn to be more specific, I mean if this is how you talk in court..” 

“Merlin!” He snickered under his breath. Straightening he regarded Arthur with an amused look and a small sly smile. 

“Where have you been!?” The blond snapped, his scowl large. Still, Merlin found the need to be a fair bit more serious. Not necessarily for Arthur’s benefit. 

“Some personal… issues came up.” Arthur gave him a sceptical eye roll. He frowned, knowing that his vague answer wasn’t enough to placate the King this time. Merlin felt something cold shiver up his spine. 

“Then tell me Merlin, why some of my knights found this- while patrolling in the forest?” In the tanned hand was a blue scrap of cloth that Merlin knew to be his kerchief, he had completely forgotten that he had left it in the woods. The one he had wrapped his brother’s crest in had been sitting on the bench, and this was something of a huge mistake. 

“I-” 

“TELL ME THE TRUTH!” In the corner of his eye, Gwen flinched. It was plain for all who could see that the King had reached his limit. Gwen was urging herself to comfort her husband, and Merlin had the urge to get out of sword range very fast. He had never seen Arthur this tipped off, his face reddened, his fists held tightly to his side and his whole body seemed to be vibrating. Merlin suddenly found himself hanging his head despite his strong spirit. His Omega had never shown itself so strongly since the fall of DresVan, especially around Arthur, he had never felt the need. Now it seemed he couldn’t stop himself. His very knees fell to the ground, and he was kneeling in front of someone who he never seen him subservient to anyone. 

His hand burned, the mark of his brother hurting for the first time. Yet his nature would not allow him to rise, he ground his teeth, but at the moment his main concern was that of Arthur’s anger. He knew that it was righteous, having the blunt of it forced on him was an entirely different matter. 

“Merlin!” He felt warm hands on his back, yet he could not move to comfort Gwen, he understood what was happening, accepting such a thing was a different matter, he had never submitted to anyone other than his Uncle and his Brother, they were the sole exceptions and they were to remain as such until he found a mate. 

Arthur was not that mate, he refused to have that be true, the heartache may be worth it, but he refused to suffer through that even if the God’s themselves frowned upon him for it. 

Blood was the only sound he could hear, and he knew that his body was producing an allure in an attempt to qual Arthur’s fury. Humiliation wasn’t even an acceptable word for what he was experiencing. 

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone is interested in doing Art for this let me know!


End file.
